


Killing for Sport

by froggbones



Category: Danganronpa, Danganronpa 2, danganronpa v3 - Fandom
Genre: Prologue, Tennis, character background??, danganronpa - Freeform, not very violent, theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9077023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggbones/pseuds/froggbones
Summary: Ryouma Hoshi was arrested for killing members of the mafia. What would have happened if he had attempted to assassinate the heir of the Kuzuryuu clan himself?





	

The rapidity of footsteps splashing through muddy puddles broke the thin veil of silence that shrouded the chilly night. The steps were agile and soft, not loud and clunky, though there was a hint of urgency in the way they moved. They were quick and sudden, as if something were pursuing them and they hesitated or faltered not once. What was it they were running from?

A deep, almost gravelly voice cut through the tense atmosphere. It was enough to startle anyone unsuspecting. "Running, hm? It seems the two of you expect it to solve all your problems! Every time we meet, it ends like this. I would have expected more from the heir of the Kuzuryuu clan himself!" 

The sprinting duo, who made sharp turns as they cut through the dark alleyways of the usually quite populated city, were in fact a highly regarded part of the infamous Kuzuryuu clan, a well organized mafia, or yakuza, group with members all over Japan. The boy who appeared to be leading the chase was slim and short, and his attire looked a little too nice to be stepping in mud puddles. As stated by the unknown voice, the boy was the heir to his family's clan. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu was his name, and some day the world would know it; though, he really wished otherwise. He didn't want that attention. Really, he didn't want any of this and he wished he could do without the goose chase through the dreary cityscape, but he couldn't say he wasn't used to it by now. It was the way he had been raised. Alongside him was his silver-haired, stoic bodyguard and hitwoman, Peko Pekoyama. Even now, in the face of so much danger, she remained calm and kept her composure. She had always been that way, even since she was young. They had both been taught that she was only a tool and that her only purpose in life was to protect and serve him at all costs. While she believed it, he was going to need a lot more convincing. That wasn't the point now, though. Now they needed to focus on the incoming threat.

As if their night couldn't get any worse, their trek came to an abrupt halt as they found themselves cornered against a dead-end. Peko immediately drew her sword, a lanky katana with a freshly sharpened blade, and positioned herself in front of Fuyuhiko. Neither of them spoke, but they were both thinking the same thing; protect the other at all costs. The tall, thin bodyguard watched the end of the alleyway with an intense look in her dark eyes. Her grip on her weapon's hilt tightened as she noticed a growing shadow creep around the corner.

"It's about time. I was beginning to think these alleys were endless," mumbled the figure as he approached and emerged from the shadows. His appearance was less menacing than one might think, but he was way more lethal than he chose to let on. He was short and his own eyes were much darker than that of the swordswoman's. He wore a pointed hat that seemed slightly childish in nature. True, his voice and physical appearance didn't quite go hand in hand, but one glimpse of the weapon he bore may change someone's mind very quickly. It looked like an ordinary tennis racket, but the ball was no ordinary tennis ball. It was silver, maybe steel, and it didn't take long to notice the old, faint stains of remaining blood that had chosen to stay on its smooth surface. "Now that I've gotten you two cornered, how about we do this the easy way?"

"Yeah fucking right, you bastard! You just killed off a good portion of our clan members and you expect me to take that sitting down?!" the blond-haired gangster exclaimed angrily, his fists balling.

"I never said it would be the easy way for you. It'll be the easy way for me, of course. So why don't you move your little bodyguard and we can get this over with? Or should I just start with her first?"

Peko didn't move, nor did she flinch. She was completely unfazed by the comment. Her sharp, crimson eyes narrowed at the threat. "Try what you will, Ryouma Hoshi. You will not move me."

Ryouma lifted a shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "If that's how it's going to be, then so be it. Let's just get this over with. I bet you two are tired of running." Without hesitation, the boy used his racket to serve the steel ball directly toward the swordswoman. Again, Peko didn't flinch. Instead, she watched as it hurled toward her. 

Fuyuhiko watched intently and almost lunged to push her out of the way, thinking that she must be out of her mind to embrace death so easily. Suddenly, the strike of a sharp blade cut through the air and made direct contact with the ball. Silver met silver and steel hit steel as the sword sent the ball spiraling back toward its owner. Ryouma's eyes went wide as he noticed this and he was quick to react, swinging his tennis racket at it and sending it flying back at Peko once again. Peko's reflexes were equally as fast as she, too, hit it back. This process repeated for quite a while, to the point where it had become a deadly game of tennis. 

Eventually, Peko grew bored of this and got a sudden idea. She sent the ball back toward Ryouma and, without turning her attention away from her opponent, hissed, "Duck." Fuyuhiko frowned momentarily before ducking not a moment too soon, as the ball flew right over Peko's crouched body and then right over his own. It soared into a wall and rebounded back, right past Ryouma this time. Temporarily stunned, the boy turned to glance at where it had gone. That was a fatal mistake in battle. By the time he had turned back to face the two, Peko had already shoved him into the brick wall of the nearest building and pressed her sword's blade to his neck. He didn't squirm. He knew he was beat.

"Young Master," began Peko, not taking her eyes off of the boy she had pinned, "shall we finish the job here or bring him to your father to decide his fate?" 

Fuyuhiko straightened his posture and slowly approached the two. He narrowed his golden eyes and cleared his throat as he examined the enemy against the wall. "Let's take him home. I'm sure Dad'll have a blast," he grumbled, almost a bit sarcastically. He stepped so close that he could feel Ryouma's shaky breaths. "And to make sure you don't try anything funny again.." 

The next thing Ryouma saw was a fist aimed straight for his face, and as soon as he felt a bit of pressure against his jaw, his world went dark. 

Peko let the boy's body fall to the ground and slump over against the wall as she sheathed her sword and slung it across her back again. She didn't hesitate to pick up the unconscious body and place it over her shoulder as if she had done so plenty of times before. 

Fuyuhiko sighed audibly and muttered, "Good thing that's over. I was starting to get pissed off." He turned on his heel and started leading the way out of the alley. Upon stepping out into the city light again, something cold and heavy brushed his foot. Looking down, the gangster groaned. He bent down to pick up the silver, steel tennis ball and stared at it. Holding it in his hand, he growled, "Jesus.. I hate tennis."

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is canon, aside from the facts on the characters themselves. This is just a little fan-theory thingy I've been thinking about lately and I finally decided to write it!


End file.
